


Wings of Valor and Compassion

by runicmagitek



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bickering, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Childhood Trauma, Kisses, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Rescue Missions, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One was inspired to fight for the people in hopes to establish order and peace. The other was driven to help the innocent in an attempt to stop people from fighting altogether. While their methods differed, their end goals and dreams remained the same; it simply took time for them to figure that out. Sometimes the takeoff is shaky, after all, but the smooth flight is worth it.</p><p>This was a oneshot collection based off of prompts, but it has now evolved into a timeline of its own starting chapter 9, sampling snapshots of their lives together. <i>Abandoned as of 6/25/18</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This collection is to help me get a better feel for headcanons and interpretation of these two lovelies. I have a list of prompts to work from, though I'm open to suggestions for prompts/scenarios. ~~There's really no chronological order to them, so things will vary from first meetings to established relationships. I'll be sure to mark the beginning of each chapter with which tags apply to what, in case people want to read specific ones.~~ There is now a consistent timeline in place and things will be carried out in chronological order starting with chapter 9. It will still read like snapshots of their lives; it will just have more structure and somewhat of a story behind it.
> 
>   
>  _pre-relationship, first meetings_   
> 

In a sense, she had known her long before they ever met. Fareeha plastered her walls with propaganda photos of Overwatch, each one another reason to cement her dreams of joining their ranks. Though of all the heroes, she eyed the blonde wielding a staff with luminescent wings akin to an angel. Always smiling, always radiating a warmth Fareeha wished to know. Even when Overwatch disbanded and her locations changed, Fareeha kept whatever images she possessed framed and propped on nightstands and desks. Maybe she never obtained her true dream, but her goal to serve and protect others remained. She had Overwatch to thank for that. Destiny might have led her to follow her mother’s footsteps, but it was faces like Mercy’s which had Fareeha smiling herself, albeit small.

And when a clinic was being set up near HSI by the likes of a certain Dr. Ziegler, Fareeha caught sight of the woman she once admired years ago. The one dubbed Mercy tended to those in need and while Fareeha didn’t wish to waste the doctor’s time, she also couldn’t walk away without saying something.

“Nice wings,” Fareeha said in passing.

Silence fell in the space and Fareeha regretted her choice in introductions.

_Really?_ she thought. _That’s all you could come up with? What sort of impression is that going to leave on someone like her?_

Sometimes she forgot life outside of the military was… well, different. Others reacted to playful banter between soldiers as harsh, if not demeaning. Fareeha never meant to disrespect, more so when her attempt at a compliment was underlined by an austere tone lacking charm.

Despite it all, Fareeha garnered Mercy’s attention. She blinked and pushed her blonde bangs out of her eyes to better inspect the origin of the comment. And when she found Fareeha, she did so without an ounce of tension in her body or face; Mercy wore the same smile forever present in all the old posters and photographs.

Before the other could respond, Fareeha pivoted on her heels and marched off. Upon gaining enough distance from the clinic, her steps slowed and a smile of her own tugged at her lips. It wasn’t until one of her fellow guards teased about the blush on her face that Fareeha snapped back to reality and wore her soldier guise again.


	2. Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _pre-relationship, pining_  
> 

She convinced herself in the beginning it was simple admiration. Nothing more. In truth, Fareeha marveled at all of Overwatch. To fight alongside the original members now, after spending decades yearning to join their ranks, was beyond a dream come true. So Mercy was no different, right? No longer a picture on her wall, Mercy joined her on missions like any soldier would. All for the sake of order and peace throughout the world.

But the woman had a gentleness Fareeha considered foreign. The strict ways of a military life embedded into her routines and beliefs. Security was no different. Some of her peers basked in their power and abused it, but Fareeha sought out to use it for good. She was stringent, sure. Maybe even a touch intimidating, but never seeking violence for sport. When victims couldn’t defend themselves, she was there to fight for them. Because of that integrity, she garnered the respect and loyalty of countless peers and superiors.

And there was Mercy. She too longed for the good of the people, but did so not by rushing the front lines with a vengeance in her blood; compassion fueled her and sent her diving for the innocents to save another life.

It confused Fareeha. Those who opposed wars and bloodshed tended to give her a headache, but Mercy? Not so much. Perhaps an eye twitch, but nothing to grit her teeth over. For Mercy met Fareeha with the same compassion she bestowed to her patients when she explained the logic of her methods. Fareeha was born and bred to defend her grounds for fighting, but with Mercy, she waited for several beats before opening her mouth.

“Fighting isn’t the only way you can help people,” Mercy told her in the beginning.

Except it was the only way Fareeha knew how to do so.

Thus Mercy’s perspective intrigued her while continuing to perplex her. And Fareeha kept insisting to herself she was drawn closer to the woman due to her different view on life. She continued to press her with new questions, only to be interjected with logic only a pacifist doctor would possess.

In time, however, Fareeha found herself enchanted by more than Mercy’s words. It was in the shape of her jaw, the way her hair fell, the constant softness in her eyes, the brilliance in her smile outshining even her valkyrie wings, and the richness of her voice. In those moments, Fareeha caught herself and reeled back. Each time, she hoped Mercy never noticed—unfortunately, she always did.

“Is something the matter, Pharah?”

 _Everything’s the matter._ “Nothing. You were saying?”

She attempted to focus on the conversation at hand, but instead drifted off to admire the rest of Mercy. And when they parted ways, Fareeha couldn’t resist the sight of those hips wiggling side to side.

Whatever spell Mercy had cast upon Fareeha was beyond the science riddled within Mercy's Caduceus Staff, for even it couldn’t cure the butterflies residing in Fareeha's stomach now.


	3. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pre-relationship, pining_

“Up late again?”

Angela snapped her head to center and swiveled in her seat to see who arrived unannounced to her office. She almost didn’t recognize the woman donning faded jeans, a graphic tshirt, and leather jacket. A far cry from the polished metal suit equipped for aerial combat. Fareeha leaned into the doorway, arms crossed and eyes piqued with curiosity.

Straightening her posture, Angela cleared her voice. “You say it as if you _know_ I tend to do this.”

Fareeha perked up an eyebrow. “Security officer. I tend to know whether I want to or not.”

“Right. So… yes, you could say I’m up late _again_. To be fair, you’re also up late.”

“Just got back from a flight.”

“In your suit?”

The subtle chuckle was the closest thing to a laugh that Angela had heard since meeting Fareeha. “There’s an airport half an hour away from here. Just received permission to take one of the planes out to fly around.”

“At this hour? It’s dark!”

“The best time to do so. Quiet, peaceful, and the view is remarkable.” Fareeha reached out to flick the overhead lights on in the office. “And we have lights in aircrafts. We don’t do it blind. You could learn a thing or two from that, Mercy.”

Angela scrunched up her face. “They’re fluorescent! And facilities has yet to come in to replace that flickering one. I’d rather it be dark than receive a headache.”

“Did they not tell you about eye strain in medical school?”

With a sigh, Angela kept her voice soft. “Do you need something, Pharah? I am rather busy.”

Fareeha pushed herself off the doorway. “Just checking up on you. Don't work yourself too hard. We need your expertise on future missions. I can leave you be, though.”

To that, Angela turned in her chair to face her computer monitors again. Before her hands resumed their position along the keyboard, Fareeha’s voice filled the room once more.

“I worry about you. That’s all. Sleep well when you get there.”

By the time Angela whipped around, Fareeha vanished. Those words echoed in her head and proved to be a distraction with her work. The two butted heads more often than not over their beliefs, but the thought of the proud soldier showing concern over her well-being… it brought a tingle to Angela’s chest. Instead of focusing on medical theories and hypotheses, she wondered what the skies looked like from up above at night. Maybe Fareeha would show her one day.

_No,_ Angela shot herself down. _She'd rattle off about all the security measures and how I wouldn’t have the clearance to do so. Besides, I can’t fly like her._

Yet it wasn’t enough to stop her from following Fareeha into combat, floating through the air like the guardian angel she was.


	4. Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pre-relationship, unresolved tension, bickering_

“Do you ever wish you didn’t have to fight at all?”

The question caught Fareeha off guard. Perched on a high rooftop, they overlooked the town consumed by midnight. Together, they waited for another escort to protect. While Fareeha double checked her suit’s vitals and their debriefing, Mercy gazed out at the stars and thought beyond the moment.

“What makes you think I’d dwell on that?” she shot back.

Mercy’s lips twitched. “I suppose it’s in your blood. You feel a need to protect others, thus the only way to do so is by fighting back.” Her head fell, but her smile persisted. “I wondered if you ever thought of a world in which you didn’t have to.”

“And do you wonder what it would be like if you had to fight in order to stay alive?”

This time, Mercy brought her gaze to meet Fareeha’s and furrowed her brow softly. “I’m fighting now, in a sense, am I not?” After a bout of silence, she continued. “I try not to think of it as fighting, but as another way of helping. Making sure soldiers such as yourself stay alive so thousands more can live.”

“Then perhaps I’m doing the same?”

Mercy sighed and her lips turned downward. “Violence only breeds more violence.”

Fareeha tried not to clench her jaw. “You say it as if I enjoy provoking others. I do it because I’d rather fight for what’s right than be defenseless and weak.”

Those lovely eyes widened before Fareeha and she swore she heard a tiny hitch in Mercy’s throat. It was too late to take back anything she had said, for the nerves had already been plucked, if not snapped.

“Do you see me as defenseless and weak, then?” Mercy whispered.

Before Fareeha could part her lips, the communicator crackled to life within her helmet. “Hey, Pharah! We got the load incoming. You got Mercy up there with you, yeah?”

_Leave it to Tracer to nail it with timing_. Fareeha straightened up and peered back down onto the streets. “Copy that,” she responded. “We’re moving out.”

Within seconds, Fareeha fell into her military routine: arming herself, checking her fuel, and blasting off into the skies. She didn’t need to check to see if Mercy would follow on her trails, but this time, she peeked past her shoulder. Despite their disagreement, Mercy’s wings unfurled and she zoomed toward Pharah with her Caduceus Staff in her clutches.

She tried to smile for the other woman, though she feared her helmet blocked her face. That and Mercy focused more on gliding to a proper rooftop before floating back up to her partner than discerning the features of her face.

_You’re not defenseless and weak,_ Fareeha thought while dragging her attention back to the streets in search of their target. _You’re anything but. Perhaps the strongest and bravest woman I know. I wish I could be like you, but I’m not. I’m sorry._

They neared their destination and Fareeha spotted intruders already blocking their way. Touching down onto a roof, she took aim while a blue glow washed over her—the Caduceus Staff working at its finest.

_But don’t you worry, Mercy. People like you give me a reason to keep fighting. And I’ll protect you._


	5. Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses_  
> 

“Remember what I said about over exerting yourself?”

Fareeha groaned and squirming in the infirmary bed. Angela couldn’t discern if it was due to genuine pain or that she was, in fact, right. Every venture out onto the battlefield, Angela did her best to assist her teammates, for without her, they would inevitably fall. Figuratively, anyways. For Fareeha, however, the outcome turned out more literal than necessary.

Angela stayed behind, favoring lab studies and results over the mission; the debriefing claimed an excess of roles, thus she wasn't required to go. Though when word traveled to her of Pharah's Raptora suit malfunctioning and the eventual crash, Angela vacated her post in an instant.

The bruises would fade, but the scars would be added to the collection. Knowing Fareeha, she’d wear them like a decorated soldier donned badges. Angela shook her head over the thought.

“You’ve said a lot of things,” Fareeha muttered. “I’ve lost track.”

Finally, a smile emerged on Angela's face. “Well, this time you should be thankful you could walk away alive.”

Well, sort of walk. There was a sprain in her ankle, perhaps even a fracture—Angela had yet to read the files—but it surpassed dying.

“At least no one was hurt,” Fareeha rambled on.

Angela blinked and cocked her head. “I beg to differ. You landed in here, did you not?”

And when Fareeha tilted her chin up to eye Angela, there was a softness she had yet to see within the militant facade constantly worn by her teammate. “Only me. Not dozens or hundreds. Just me.” She closed her eyes. “I’d rather it be me.”

Those words were small daggers poking at Angela’s heart. She instinctively reached out to Fareeha and clutched onto her upper arm.

“I’d rather it had been no one,” Angela whispered. _I should have been out there. I could have prevented this._ Then a thought occurred to her. _I wish it hadn't been you—_

“Shocker. Well, sorry to disappoint you, Mercy.” Fareeha struggled to lift her other hand to pat the top of Angela’s. “So… what are the chances of upping my pain meds?”

 _Oh. Right._ Angela retracted her arm and stood up. “Is it getting worse?”

Fareeha shrugged. “Getting there. I’d rather deal with it now than be screaming in an hour or so. D.Va was saying you could hook me up with some sweet health potions.”

“...Health potions?”

“ _Sweet_ health potions. That’s a direct quote. She’d be upset if you didn’t add that descriptor.”

At that, Angela chuckled. “Not sure I’d call it sweet, unless having sweet dreams as a side effect falls under that.”

“So long as they’re not nightmares.”

“I doubt it.” Angela pivoted her feet towards the door. “Give me a moment.”

Within five minutes, she returned to Fareeha’s side with the medication needed to relieve her of pain. Angela injected the contents into the IV and gauged Fareeha’s face for a reaction to the medication. Each breath lengthened while Fareeha closed her eyes.

“That should do it,” Angela said with a smile. “It’s a muscle relaxant, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you fall asleep.”

“Yeah,” Fareeha replied. “Think it’s working. Real good, too.” Her words dragged out and softened. “Thanks, Mercy. This means… a lot to me.”

Her heart swelled and her lips quirked to life. “Please, it’s Angela.”

Not that she would have called her by Fareeha—the stubborn woman insisted on her call sign even off the battlefield—but Angela wasn’t her and they were more than comrades, right? At least Angela viewed her as so. More than a battle suit protecting her in the heat of combat. Just as she was beyond a walking—or flying, depending on the situation—med kit.

But Fareeha murmured something through closed lips. Angela leaned in, hoping to hear more, but all she found were deep, peaceful breaths.

 _Asleep so soon._ Angela smiled. _You need it, anyways._

Though instead of pulling back, Angela dipped in further, pushed a lock of black hair out of Fareeha’s face, and kissed her temple.

“ _Süsse Träume_ ,” she whispered into her before leaving the room.


	6. Element

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _pre-relationship, bonding_  
> 

It began with being a savant of sorts, forever years ahead of her peers in academia. By adulthood, she imagined the sensation would wear thin and vanish. Perhaps she would discover like-minded people who shared her beliefs. For it was those beliefs mixed with her drive which earned her the many accolades and praise within her field. It was what garnered Overwatch's attention.

But Angela was as out of her element in Overwatch as she was as a child, finding no one to discuss complex biology and chemistry with. The group's goals mirrored her own—a better, peaceful world. If only they could do so without bloodshed.

What good was violence when it only bred more violence. Every broken body served as a task, a life to save. Her valkyrie suit ensured a swift arrival to those in need, but even she couldn't save everyone. People died. Everyone did eventually, but not like this.

She didn't need to vocalize it; Angela's abrupt distant nature rang through her peers in the wake of Overwatch disbanding. Maybe then she'd make another scientific breakthrough and thus make a real difference in the world. She established clinics and traveled in order to aid those less fortunate. Much to her dismay, the violence escalated along with the body count.

_How can people do this?_ she thought on more than one occasion. _If only they could understand that fighting isn't the answer to everything._

Few bothered to listen to her lectures—or so they insisted on calling them—and opted to rush head first into battle. Angela had no other choice but to follow in hopes to rid death from looming over their shoulders.

Of all those she followed, there was one she chose to fly towards the most.

The woman insisted on everyone addressing her by her call sign: Pharah. Even outside missions, she never strayed from the name. But Angela came to know her better on the battlefields, where she donned bright blue armor fitted for an Egyptian deity from ancient myth. Pharah blasted into the skies with a fearlessness Angela found in so few souls, herself included. The fight itself might not have excited her, but the determination to protect and save her allies outweighed all else.

So Angela gripped her Caduceus Staff, unfurled her valkyrie wings, and jolted up into the sky towards Pharah.

Unlike her ally, she couldn't fly, but the moment her suit regained energy capacity, Angela shot back up to join Pharah. Each time, she suspended herself midair with a watchful eye on their surroundings. Many were fooled by the illusion of flight, even Angela to a degree. It was when she met Pharah that Angela met the ecstasy which accompanied flying.

One could get used to this.

And Pharah noted the field medic following her around like a puppy dog. "Surprised to see you keeping up, Mercy."

Angela landed beside Pharah and offered a smile. "You say it as if this my first mission."

"Far from it." She glanced to Angela while reloading. "Thought you'd be opposed to following a soldier around."

She should have. A woman like Pharah was the poster child of everything Angela detested. Former military turned security officer, Pharah prided herself in the good fight. Whatever that meant. It gave her worth, just like Angela's medical studies did.

Yet Angela saw more than malicious intents, much to her own surprise. "I'm opposed to my teammates dying," Angela teased her with instead.

She swore Pharah smirked behind that golden visor, albeit briefly. "Then I'll make sure to keep the skies safe for you."

With that, Pharah blasted off without warning. Angela didn't hesitate to follow.

Even when the mission was a success and long done, those words echoed in Angela's head. She gazed out a window, allowing a pause in her readings. Clouds floated by in the distance, marked only by the occasional flock of birds. A smile washed over her features as her eyes glossed over. The memory of a woman protecting her in the heat of battle filled Angela. Enemies rushed to Angelia time after time to end her, but Pharah zoomed in and knock them away with her rockets.

Maybe Angela couldn't fault her for preferring a more violent path; Pharah did so with a just soul instead of seeking selfish power.

"What are you looking at?"

Whipping her head around, Angela fluttered her eyes at the very woman she had been thinking of. She parted her lips to explain her random daydreaming—well, enough to make it _not_ sound like a teenage crush—but Angela caught Pharah's sights not on the window, but on the texts sprawled out on the desk.

In that moment, Angela couldn't help but look over Pharah. Clad in jeans and a tank top, it served to be the first time Angela spotted her in civilian. Her toned arms rested along her chest, where her dog tags embossed with the eye of Ra sat. Something compelled Angela to reach out and comb fingers through that black hair, but the notion vanished the moment Pharah's eyes settled onto hers.

Had she not noticed how rich those eyes were before?

"Mercy?"

And just like that—back to reality. "Y-yes?"

"You alright?"

"I'm fine!" she insisted with a wave of her hand and a nervous bout of laughter. Oh, she could only hope Pharah didn't notice the fresh burst of blush coloring her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, I was caught up in my studies. W-what was it you needed again?"

Pharah lifted a delicate eyebrow. "So that's what you're doing?"

_Well… not really._ "Hmm?"

The jerk of her chin gestured to the open books. "All this?"

Angela's slumped posture straightened out. "Oh, this? Yes, that's… some of it."

She didn't expect Pharah to tuck hair behind her ear—that much made Angela swallow hard—and lean in to further inspect it all. "What is it exactly?" Her eyes flicked to Angela with a sparkle in them. "If… you can tell me, that is. I can respect keeping information classified."

At first, she parted her lips, then paused. A part of Angela throttled back to her younger days, back when she struggled to cling to her stack of books while running down the halls to make her next class. She read all those books through massive glasses, only to be corrected by laser surgery in her later years. Each time someone asked what she read, she rambled with utter glee without pausing to breathe. Angela was met with confused and disinterested faces. Over time, she learned to respond with, "You wouldn't get it." Save her the headache and heartbreak.

But she wasn't a child. Neither was Pharah. The woman opposite her possessed the same awe she once had upon first learning all of the things she now had burned into her brain. _But she's a soldier,_ Angela reasoned at first. _What could she possibly understand?_

Then she remembered that same soldier coming to understand why Angela followed her in the heat of battle.

So Angela smiled. "You might want to grab a chair if—"

And Pharah was two steps ahead of her, dragging a stool over to plop down beside her.

And when Angela explained what it was she did, Pharah never met her with the old faces she grew to despise; she met Angela was reverence and delight.


	7. Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, kisses_

People died. That much was inevitable. Even before her military time, Fareeha learned that lives would be lost. It was up to her to decide how she reacted to that. During missions, she strove to accomplish her tasks with the least amount of casualties, but some days proved to challenge that ideal. She bowed her head out of respect to those lost before marching on. To dwell in the past meant one never welcomed the brightness within the future.

But that was how Fareeha saw it. Not everyone was her. Especially Mercy.

She ranked as one of the top cheerleaders in the group, forever lifting spirits when the team thought victory was futile. Always optimistic, always persistent.

So how the hell was Fareeha supposed to lift the spirits of the one who never fell from her hopeful perch?

They lost many that day. Too many. Even Fareeha berated herself mentally for the countless mistakes, all of which, in hindsight, seemed obvious in solving. They did all they could, even in defeat. And Mercy was nowhere to be seen by the group back at their base. Fareeha might not have seen her slip away, but she had a better guess as to where Mercy was in comparison to the others.

Thus Fareeha sought her out.

Curled up on the balcony of the top floor, Mercy drew her knees into her chest and buried her face within them. Her blonde hair, no longer residing in a ponytail, wilted around her shoulders.

Fareeha knocked at the open door, but not a muscle flinched at the sound. With ginger steps, she inched towards Mercy. "Hey, how are you holding up?" Nothing. "Can... I join you?"

Even when the silence sifted through them, she wasn't met with hostility, and Fareeha closed in on Mercy until she loomed over her. She sat down and back onto her heels while looking over Mercy.

In time, she found her voice again. "I'm sorry, Mercy. I wish… there was more we could have done."

A sniffle sounded underneath the pile of blonde hair. "No, I should be sorry." A hollowed sorrow replaced the once cheerful tone everyone came to love about Mercy. If only Fareeha knew how to take away the pain trembling upon her tongue. "I've been doing this for far too long. Long enough to know this happens. I'm stupid to—"

"Don't say that."

Without thinking, Fareeha shifted her position to face Mercy and swept the woman into her arms. A small, muffled gasp sounded against Fareeha. Upon realizing her impulsiveness, Fareeha closed her eyes. _Damnit. What the hell are you doing?_ Yet she couldn't release the embrace.

"Please never say that." Fareeha nuzzled into the woman's hair. She smelled of vanilla, rain, and fresh cut flowers. "You're not stupid, Mercy. I never want you to feel that way. You've gotten this far because of how brave you are. Please—" Fareeha squeezed tight. "Never forget that. I'll remind you every day if I have to. Anything to make you smile again."

Fareeha drew in a breath and released it, focusing on the beats of the woman's heart. "It's not your fault, Mercy. You did everything you could. You always do."

The silence persisted, only to be shattered when Mercy sucked in air. She choked on a suppressed sob, gradually craning her head back to eye Fareeha.

It pained her to see those puffy, red eyes staring back at her. Oh, how she longed to see those blue irises glitter with hope. She wanted to hear one of Mercy's cheeky one-liners again. She wanted Mercy to lecture her for the umpteenth time about how violence wasn't the answer. She wanted to look behind her and see her guardian angel following her ever move to ensure the skies stayed safe.

She wanted to dip in and kiss those tears away if it meant healing her broken heart.

"You must still think I'm a mess," Mercy sputtered out.

"No," Fareeha said, shaking her head. "Far from it. You're not one of my men." She brushed hair out of Mercy's moist face. "You're my medic." She forced herself to smile. "And furthermore, you're—" The truth choked Fareeha for a beat. "You're my friend."

_Nice recovery,_ she kept to herself.

Mercy never noticed her hesitance. Or if she did, she didn't bother to make mention of it. Instead, she buried her face into the crook of Fareeha's neck, clinging onto her like her life depended on it.

And Fareeha let her.

And when Mercy cried herself to sleep within Fareeha's lap, only then did Fareeha muster the courage to dip in and kiss away the lingering tears upon her guardian angel's soft face.


	8. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, pining_

Death was inevitable. No doctor was delusional enough to believe _everyone_ could be saved, but Angela tried her best. With every life saved, it restored hope in her—perhaps humanity would understand that fighting wasn’t the solution. Until then, she rushed into battle alongside her allies and ensured their lives never flickered out. They had Angela’s back, in turn.

But it didn’t stop the hitch in Angela’s throat when guns fired to the skies and struck Fareeha.

She didn’t think; she just acted. The wings to her valkyrie suit unfurled and her feet lifted from solid ground. Once in range, a golden beam jutted out from her Caduceus Staff and connected with the falling Fareeha. And yet she still fell.

_No,_ Angela thought while zooming towards her. _Don_ _’t die on me._ _I won_ _’t let you. Just fly. Please, fly._

She blinked back what she refused to admit was tears. _Fly for me._

But Fareeha crashed into one of the rooftops and Angela touched down on the ledge. Maneuvering past the damaged shingles, Angela maintained the healing beam while dropping to her knees. She damned the Raptora Mark VI for preventing her from locating a vein for a heartbeat. The technology was too advanced for even Angela to decipher the vital stats on the electronics. Fear riddled Angela’s face as she pressed a palm into Fareeha’s chest. Nothing beat for her there, but the motors still whirred in the suit.

A moment later, Fareeha stirred, groaned, and grimaced. Angela gasped and held her breath. When she flashed those beautiful, dark eyes at Angela, a smile overwhelmed her.

“You’re alive!” Angela squeaked out.

“Am I?” Fareeha struggled to sit up. “You sure?”

“For now, yes. Let me call for backup. Wounds I can deal with, but malfunctions in your suit are beyond my—”

“No, I must be dead,” Fareeha insisted. “You’re an angel… right?”

Blush burned Angela’s cheeks while Fareeha closed her eyes.

She stayed beside her exhausted comrade until additional medics arrived to escort Fareeha off the battlefield. While her Caduceus Staff worked its magic, Angela sat in silence with Fareeha’s words echoing in her head. She had to have been delirious from the shock. Confused her outfit with that of an actual angel.

Because she couldn’t possibly think that fondly of her, right? 

Angela could only dream that she did. Sometimes a dream was enough to get by on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't forgotten about this collection and these two love birds (health + work + life generally getting in the way = lol what writing). I have some prompts drafted out, so I hope to do more in the future. Sort of getting into a more cohesive-ish story. At least consistent. We'll see how it develops. Thanks for sticking around, guys :)


	9. Rain

A night perusing the streets turned into a need to seek refuge until the rain ended. Fareeha had intended her evening to be relaxing before the mission come morning. Now she feared she’d never make it back to the base in time. She stood inside a cafe, filled with others also waiting out the rainstorm. People settled into cozy chairs and warmed up with coffee and hot chocolate, all while chatting away with friends and loved ones. As for Fareeha, she stood by the window, crossed arms and pursed lips. It wasn’t enough to make the rain go away.

With a defeated sigh, Fareeha turned to wait in line for a drink. Surely by the time she finished it, maybe the storm would roll on by. She ordered a small, dark roast coffee, mostly due to her impatience driving her away from the more complicated orders. It also didn’t help the more complex drinks baffled her—how did anyone pronounce half of these fancy drinks? Her drink arrived on the counter in less than five minutes and she nodded in thanks before returning to her seat by the window.

Water rolled down the windows. Street lights bounced off of the puddles and rippled with every torrent of raindrops. Fareeha propped her cheek up on a loose fist while wondering what everyone else was doing at the base. There had been talks of a game night, but Fareeha was of the opinion that board games were better suited for children. Besides, Mercy said she was busy with errands, so what was the point of even trying?

That thought vanished when a knock rattled along the window and jolted Fareeha upright, nearly knocking her coffee out of her grasp.

What she didn’t expect was Mercy standing there beneath an umbrella, smiling and waving.

She said something to Fareeha, but the words were lost. After a few attempts, Mercy shook her head and headed inside.

“Hey!” she said while shaking out her umbrella. “I wasn’t expecting to see you out here.”

“Got caught in the rain,” Fareeha explained.

“Guess that makes two of us.” She held up a bakery box. “It’s Mei’s birthday coming up, so I picked up a cake. But no telling! It’s a surprise.”

To that, Fareeha couldn’t help but crack a smile. “And here I thought you were busy going over lab results.”

A hint of blush colored Mercy’s cheeks. “Well… the night is still young, but….” She blinked. “Do… you want to walk back together?”

Fareeha nearly spat out her coffee. “What?”

“Walk back. I got this.” She wiggled her umbrella. “And if we get tight, it can fit both of us. Figured it’s better than waiting for the rain to die out. Who knows how long that will take.”

In the time Mercy explained her plan of attack, Fareeha chugged the rest of her coffee, even if it scorched her entire esophagus, and chucked it into a nearby trash bin.

“Alright.” She stood up and brushed her hands off on her jeans. “Good to go.”

Mercy tilted her head. “I-I didn’t mean to make you rush your—”

“Not at all. Trust me. I’m good whenever you are.”

The smile Mercy offered in response warmed Fareeha more than the coffee ever would.

Together, they emerged out into the night and all its elements. The relentless rain coated the world, transforming the streets into rippling mirrors for the city lights to reflect off of. Per Mercy’s suggestion, Fareeha kept close as they struggled to stay dry beneath the umbrella. Their shoulders bumped and while a hint of heat splashed over Fareeha’s cheeks, Mercy never twitched.

She wanted to glance over and catch sight of the breathtaking woman who offered to walk back with her. She wanted to lean in and catch a better whiff of her scent. She wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulder. Swallowing hard, Fareeha maintained politeness—they… were friends, right? _Just_ friends. Why else would Mercy purpose walking back together? She couldn’t fathom forcing Mercy into an awkward position.

But the wind picked up and dared to tear Mercy’s umbrella out of her grasp. She let out a squeak; strength was never Mercy’s forte. Before Fareeha could assist and save the umbrella, a gust knocked it away and swirled it up and out of sight.

Fareeha blinked and froze. _Fuck_ _…_

As if to mock them, the rain poured down with vicious might. Mercy gasp and wrapped her arms around her form, whipping her head about until she darted off.

“Quick! This way!”

Fareeha didn’t dare question her motives and followed. To their luck, Mercy discovered haven in an alleyway beneath a set of stairs. It wasn’t completely free from the onslaught of rain, a few trickles from the gaps above squeezing through, but it was better than nothing. Though upon reaching it, there was little room there for the two of them to stay dry. Far less than the umbrella, that was for sure.

But the rain was the last worry on her mind when Mercy pouted and clung to the bakery box. “The cake…. oh, I hope it’s not ruined.”

Fareeha didn’t think; her jacket came off in one swift motion. “Here.” She draped it over the box. “That should keep it in tact.”

“But…” Mercy fluttered her eyes and gazed at Fareeha. “You’ll catch a cold without that and—”

Blush colored Mercy’s cheeks and Fareeha followed her gaze. Of all the times to be wearing a white t-shirt, now wasn’t one of them. Fareeha sighed and looked back up, only to notice Mercy herself donned a white skirt, which the rain was already soaking through.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, trying to keep her eyes above Mercy’s waist. “Just keep yourself and the cake dry.”

“ _You_ should stay dry, too.”

A hand looped around Fareeha’s bicep and tugged her in close. She didn’t object and stepped into the space or what was left of it.

Into Mercy.

Nothing but the rain and their out of sync heartbeats thrummed in the moment. Fareeha held her breath each time Mercy shifted her weight. She spotted Mercy lick her lips at one point and tried not to dwell on the thought.

Mercy shivered eventually and upon instinct, Fareeha wrapped an arm around her. Upon realizing her actions, Fareeha formulated an apology and began loosening her hold, but a tiny whimper sounded as a soft cheek nuzzled into her shoulder.

So Fareeha tightened the embrace and Mercy snuggled in further.

She ignored the spray of rain drenching her back and focused on the one in her arms. Every time her heart skipped a beat or her breath caught in her throat, Fareeha blinked, as if expecting to wake from a dream. Instead, she found herself standing with Mercy. All she longed for was to ensure Mercy’s safety and comfort.

But there was a sliver of her that wished the rain would never end.

In time, the storm teetered off to intermittent sprinkles. Fareeha never bothered to check the time; she gazed over Mercy when her muscles relaxed and she lifted her head.

“Think it’s safe now to head back,” Mercy said, blue eyes to the dark skies.

Fareeha hummed. “You stay dry enough?”

And she nodded. “Thanks to you.”

That smile was enough to make Fareeha blush, something that was happening far too many times in one night for her liking.

Together, they headed for the base. Fareeha hoped to spot Mercy’s umbrella along the way, but the item was forever lost. It was, however, the least of Mercy’s concerns.

“Your entire back is drenched!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But what if you get sick?”

_Suppose that_ _’s an excuse to get to see you again._ “No need to worry about me, Mercy.”

“Angela.” As Fareeha stood speechless, Mercy’s smile brightened. “You can call me Angela. I don’t mind.”

“But—”

“I know we’re partners and you’re all for maintaining formalities, but we’re not saving lives on the battlefield.” Mercy giggled. “We’re just… walking together.”

“We saved a cake.”

She didn’t expect Mercy to laugh, but the sound was beyond appreciated. “That, too! Perhaps you should rethink your line of work. Professional cake escort has a nice ring to it.”

It did, but Fareeha preferred her current rank, even if she dreamed of possibilities locked deep in her heart. Though whatever role she took on in life, she hoped Angela would be beside her as support.

As a friend.

But after the absence of protest of their time in the alley, perhaps something more than that.


	10. Memory

She remembered the cold and the rain and the fear that perhaps the night would be ruined by a silly mistake. All of that faded to nothing when she recalled the warmth of a protective body. So close. Perhaps too close on a professional level, but Angela had been picking up a cake and she found Fareeha....

The memory played on a cycle on her mind. She swore Fareeha’s heart pulsed as wildly as her own. If she stood on her tiptoes, then maybe... just maybe....

Only once, she could—

“Hey.”

Angela fluttered her eyes and jerked upright. The abrupt movement scattered a stack of papers from her desk, all of which were the least of her worries. Fareeha stood before her with her hands behind her back.

“Did I....” Fareeha tilted her head. “Is this a bad—”

“N-no, it’s fine!” Angela held up her hands and released a shaky laugh. “My door’s always open for everyone.” _You included._

“You shouldn’t be working yourself to death in here.”

“Ah, quite the opposite! If I didn’t work, then who would be saving lives and inventing new breakthroughs in medicine and....” She scooped up a handful of papers and shuffled them back into a neat stack. “Doing... paperwork to approve a new patent.” She sighed; not the most glamorous aspect of her job, but it was a necessity.

Fareeha stepped forward. “Yet you still managed to find time to get that cake for Mei, which in case no one told you, the party was quite a success.”

Angela waved a hand at her and prayed she didn’t blush furiously. “Oh, think nothing of it! Anything to help my allies, no? Both on and off the battlefield!”

As her nervous laughter trickled out of her lips, she noted Fareeha shuffling in place. _Am I making this more awkward than it needs to be?_ Angela maintained good posture in her seat despite longing to slump over and focused on the nervous lady before her.

Though when she gazed up at Fareeha, the memory of their night in the rain thrummed through Angela’s body until chills teased her spine all the way down to her toes.

_So close_ , she recalled. _You were... so close. To protect me. You_ _’ve always gone above and beyond for me. How... could I ever begin to repay you? Would you let me?_

“Um....” Angela licked her lips. “Is there something I can—”

“The other night,” Fareeha blurted out. “I... felt bad.”

Her blue eyes widened at the revelation. Bad for what? _You did nothing wrong,_ she wanted to say. _How could you? Well... maybe it would be nice if you didn_ _’t feel the need to charge into battle and ‘fight the good fight,’ but... you could never...._

Bringing her hands forward, Fareeha revealed what she hid from Angela: a white umbrella. Brand new and far nicer than anything Angela splurged on herself as of late, let alone umbrellas specifically.

“I couldn’t save it when it floated away,” Fareeha murmured, eyes to the desk. “I’m so sorry.”

“Fareeha....”

“Please.” She extended the umbrella to Angela. “I want you to have it.”

Peeling her eyes off of Fareeha, Angela gingerly accepted the umbrella. Fingertips skimmed the material and Angela smiled at the whiff of newness exuding from it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Angela spoke, radiating with gratitude.

“I _wanted_ to,” Fareeha offered.

“Well, then I guess I’ll owe you—”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Oh please, it’s the least I can do! You’ve already saved the cake and then replaced my—”

A gasp startled Angela as the umbrella unfurled while she clutched it. All of her papers dispersed again along with several other items knocked over in the chaos, including her coffee mug. With a squeak, she peeked out past the massive umbrella to find Fareeha bolting to save the mug from plummeting to its demise. The spilled contents could be mopped up, but the sentimental value from the mug couldn’t be replaced.

Fareeha gently tossed it in her hands and placed it back down. “One less thing I need to buy for you.”

With a deep inhale, Angela ignored her heart skipping beats. “Thank you.”

“At least it works.” Fareeha motioned to the umbrella.

“Oh, of course!” Angela fussed with closing it. “This... this means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

As Fareeha headed back for the door, Angela found her voice. “Fareeha!” She struggled to breathe once Fareeha stopped to eye her. “I’m... glad I found you the other night.”

Once more, they locked eyes. Angela was tempted to toss her desk to the side and rush towards her. Anything to be inches away from her again. Or perhaps less. To feel her body pressed into hers, despite layers of clothing obstructing the way.

Anything to relive that memory again.

Fareeha flashed a rare smile. “I’m glad, too, Angela.”

Her heart swelled. By the time she regained her thoughts, Fareeha had bowed out. Angela hugged the umbrella tight to her chest; it smelled faintly of Fareeha. Even then, Angela found traces of Fareeha more in the rain and the distinct scent which came once the clouds stilled. While she cleaned up the mess she made, Angela anxiously awaited the first time she could use her umbrella.


	11. Pretend

They exchanged glances during briefings, in passing, in between sips of coffee. Only when no one was looking. At least such was true for Fareeha. She settled her sights upon her targets with an intensity that made her fellow soldiers cower. Whenever Angela walked by, she hoped she didn’t gaze upon her the same way. Subtlety wasn’t Fareeha’s strong suit, after all.

But part of her wanted to—wanted to stop pretending that whatever it was they were experiencing was a fluke and finally get it out of their systems. Her eyes alone conveyed all the unspoken sentiments she held for Angela alone. Surely the feelings were mutual, right?

Those blue eyes lingered over Fareeha whenever they breathed the same air. She swore they flicked over her toned body more than once. Blush warmed Angela’s face and words escaped her whenever they attempted mere conversation. Or perhaps Fareeha had the opposite effect on her and made her nervous, uncomfortable. The thought pained her; she wanted to bring Angela nothing but happiness. She deserved nothing less.

But they were also teammates. No one else fooled around in the lull between active missions. Not to Fareeha’s knowledge. What would everyone else think? But what else was Fareeha to do? Pretend what she felt didn’t exist? The competing emotions tore a hole inside of her chest and sent her heart racing.

_If only I could have kissed her back then,_ Fareeha thought, memories surfacing of that rainy night.

Every instance she passed by Angela, she contemplated saying something, doing something. As eager as she was in combat, Fareeha tripped over her words if not outright choked on them before Angela. Doubt riddled her mind. Perhaps it was better to admire the lovely woman from afar and not trouble her with childish crushes.

She eyed Angela entering the break room, far more interested her arrival than the lunch sitting before Fareeha. Angela prepped her coffee as if readying herself for surgery—not a movement out of place. She hummed to herself, the tune turning her lips upright. Everyone else chatted, but Fareeha opted for silence.

There had been a point where she insisted on calling her by her callsign—Mercy. For what they shared was a mutual work arrangement. Nothing more. Whether on the battlefield or in a break room, she was Mercy.

But now Fareeha grew used to the sound of _Angela_ rolling off her tongue. Even though Angela suggested it to her and claimed she didn’t mind, Fareeha spoke it with admiration and cherished the syllables strung together. Had anyone cared to notice the slight change in her behavior around their combat medic?

Had Angela noticed?

Fareeha excused herself from the table to fetch some coffee or so she convinced herself. She lingered by Angela, eyes to her more so than the coffee machine. Or where her feet were taking her.

The two bumped into each other and they gasped.

“I’m so sorry,” Fareeha rushed out first.

“Oh my goodness!” Angela cup a hand over her mouth. “Are you alright?”

Fareeha drank in the fresh blush on Angela’s cheeks. Those eyes, those lips.... What she would give to return to that alley in the rain, to not pretend and expressed what she truly felt.

_You could say something now. Be honest. She deserves that much._

Swallowing down the anxiety, Fareeha chuckled. “But of course. And you?”

Angela mirrored Fareeha’s reaction. “Yes, thank you. Didn’t mean to be clumsy.”

“The fault’s my own. I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“Not to worry. You never are.”

Angela finished her making her coffee and Fareeha abandoned her half-made cup. She memorized the way Angela tucked loose hair behind her ear and cradled her mug. Then she shuffled off, perhaps to return to her office and slave over more microscopes and reports. As for Fareeha, she returned to her seat to finish her lunch with an absent mind. All the while, her eyes stared out the windows to the clear skies, eager for the next time they could fly together.


	12. Break

Angela followed Fareeha through the skies as they scouted below. No different from their usual procedures, but Angela’s mind wandered and heart fluttered before they suited up.

_Is it the same for you?_ she wondered. _Or is this just another mission yet again?_

No one questioned Angela as she paired up with Fareeha. She hoped her face didn’t burn from her combined giddiness and anxiety. Now wasn’t the time to daydream; they had a village to save and some omnics to take care of.

The two touched down upon a rooftop. The higher vantage point provided a clear view of the area along with masking them from their enemy. Rain sprinkled from the night sky, the soft drops tickling Angela’s face.

“It’s raining,” Angela remarked with a giggle. She extended her open hand to catch some of the raindrops, then eyed Fareeha. “A little calmer this time, at least, hmm?”

That visor made it tricky to discern Fareeha’s face, though Angela swore a familiar smile flashed before her. “Sadly,” Fareeha said, “I have no means to keep us dry.”

Angela waved her hand. “Oh, don’t fuss over that. I’ll be fine.”

But Fareeha’s attention darted elsewhere as she gasped. “We have company.”

The Raptora Mark VI flared up from its jets; Fareeha launched herself back into the sky. No time to think or discuss anything. Angela swallowed hard, locked her sights onto Fareeha, and barely kept up as she glided after her.

Bullets zipped by. Metal crunched below. Fareeha never flinched while charging into the front lines. Angela clenched her teeth and activated her Caduceus Staff. The golden beam latched onto Fareeha and mitigated incoming damage. Angela switched rapidly between the offensive and curative boosts for Fareeha. Sadly, she possessed nothing to stop the omnics themselves from firing.

Fareeha’s voice sounded through their comms, requesting back up. Voices bounced back and forth about coordinates and how the hell they reached their location.

“We _flew_ ,” Fareeha yelled while sustaining fire, “like we always do.”

Angela’s heart sunk as the conversation continued over the comms. No one else could reach them without flying. Both herself and Fareeha were outnumbered without their teammates. The battle was pointless.

Other voices crept into earshot outside of the comms. Angela perked up and whipped about. An abandoned building held the sound of others pleading for help. Her heart throttled to her throat.

“Pharah,” Angela called out, “we need to fall back.”

“We can’t let them win,” Fareeha yelled in between shots.

“We can’t keep this up—”

“ _Yes_ , we can—”

“ _No_ , we can’t! Not without help! We’ll die out here!”

“And _more_ people will die if we don’t do something! Keep me up and I’ll get us through this!”

She settled her eyes onto Fareeha, a woman forged by the military and tempered by security standards. _You_ _’d sooner die than give up,_ Angela withheld. Her eyes glossed over while flicking back and forth between Fareeha and the building. The Caduceus Staff trembled in her hands; at this rate, even Angela couldn’t keep Fareeha unscathed. Explosions filled her view as rock and dirt sprayed down with the gentle rain.

“Fareeha,” she begged, hating the desperate quality in her voice, “please, we need to go. There are _people_ trapped here, I can hear—”

“They’re falling back!” Fareeha reloaded her gun and prepared her rockets. “We need to make sure they don’t get away. Come on!”

Her screams were lost to Fareeha’s suit propelling her into the sky. Blue eyes followed the smoke trail and her wings unfurled. But she bit her lip and averted her gaze. A face poked out from one of the broken windows—a child.Her breath caught in her throat. Everything numbed to the rain. Narrowing her sights onto the little one, Angela blazed forward and arrived in an instant.

Feeble feet touched down on the dry, yet disheveled flooring. With her wings tucked back in, she spun around to shake off the rain and examine the building’s interior. Six children huddled by one of the walls, all of their beady eyes locked onto her.

“Are you alright?” Angela called out while closing the distance between them. “Are there any others?”

None of them entertained her with an answer.

The Caduceus Staff buzzed to life as she directed it to one of the bruised and bloodied kids. Its soothing beam flowed out and washed over the child. He recoiled at first, then calmed down upon realizing she meant no harm.

“I’m here to help,” Angela reassured with a soft smile, taking her time to tend to each one. “Please, tell me if there are any others.” She paused, her breath skittering in her throat. “Your parents? Where are they?”

Though their wounds closed, the healing beam did little to brighten their faces. Eyes fell from Angela. One child burst out into tears.

She blinked and the horrors of battle silenced. She blinked and she was but a child herself, laughing beside her parents. She blinked and she cried, clinging to a dirtied stuffed animal and screaming for anyone who would hear her. No one came for her. Not her parents, not a familiar face. Nothing but destruction erupted around her.

With a gasp, Angela fluttered her glossy eyes and returned to the moment. One of the children tugged on her arm.

“Are we going to die?” the young girl asked her, that innocent face smeared with sweat, dirt, and blood.

Angela shook her head and struggled to steady her voice. “No. I’m here to bring you all to safety. Not to worry.” She flashed them all a smile. “We’ll be back to base before you—”

An explosion boomed by the building, blasting debris through the shattered windows. The children screamed while Angela herded them away from the catastrophe. Outside were a pair of omnics, demolishing whatever stood in their way.

Tapping into her comm, Angela spoke up. “This is Mercy! I have found six children in an abandoned building. My coordinates are—” Bullets sprayed through the walls. Angela ducked for cover behind a pillar. The children crowded around her, several clinging to her legs. “I need back up immediately!” She peeked around the pillar. Three more omnics joined the fray. “I am outnumbered! There are _children_ with me! Please, I require assistance!”

Nothing but static sounded in her ears.

Past the rain and the omnics, Angela gazed to the skies.

“Fareeha!” she squeaked out. “Where are you?! I—”

The omnics launched missiles, each one sailing for the building. Angela’s eyes widened. She shrieked for the children to take cover. The words barely left her mouth once the explosions thrummed through the foundation of the building. Pillars collapsed and with it the upper levels. The blast sent Angela flying into another wall. Once the rumbling ceased and the heat of the fire vanished, she ignored the violent headache and chime in her ear to force herself up to seated. Blurred images of the children splayed before her, though she counted six altogether.

“We’re going to die!” one of them whimpered.

“No one’s going to come for us!” another screamed.

Others cried for their parents while the rest clung to each other for whatever comfort they could provided in the horrific moment. Angela stared, eyes blank while she processed what had transpired. The comm stayed silent. All exits were closed off from the recent debris. Even the remaining floors above teetered on broken support beams, daring to collapse at any moment.

No openings in sight. No one promising to swoop in to save them.

_You wouldn_ _’t leave me behind, would you, Fareeha?_

A breath trembled out of her. She ignored her own wounds and focused on the children. Angela gathered them together, hushing them with serene words of reassurance. Someone would come for them soon. Even then, Angela couldn’t utter _I promise_ to the little ones. Not when it wasn’t the truth.

Rumbles coursed through the building. Dirt and debris sifted through and rained on top of them. The children huddled closer to Angela. She opened her arms for all over them and hummed an old lullaby. She convinced herself it was to calm the children; she needed the soothing melody as much as them, though.

Another tremor shot through the area. Explosions and gunfire echoed past the walls, followed by silence. Angela held her breath, awaiting the inevitable destruction from the omnics. The ceiling blew off with a burst. A heavier rain poured down through the cracks, accompanied by a strong breeze.

She recognized that blue armor perched on top in the limited light.

“Stand back!”

Heading the command, Angela corralled the children as a missile cleared out the debris hindering a straight path. The foundations of the building creaked and trembled. All Angela heard was her heart racing out of control and the faint sound of Fareeha’s voice.

“Mercy!” that voice reached out to her. “Mercy, are you still down there?!”

She was quick to bounce to her feet, only to hiss and stumble back down. Her ankle and knee protested, but the adrenaline fueling her said otherwise.

“Down here!” she shouted back.

Despite the limp, she shuffled into the dim light spilled in from above. She craned her head back and found Fareeha hovering above. Her breath hitched in her throat. _You didn_ _’t forget about me._

“Come on!” Fareeha extended a hand. “We need to get out of here!”

“I-I can’t bring all the children up in a single trip.” Her eyes darted about; the little ones already crowded around, anxious to be the first to leave.

“We don’t have time! The building is going to collapse at this rate!”

Several blasts from the outside left the structures shaking. The children cried and clung to Angela. Furrowing her brow and swallowing hard, she made up her mind.

“Alright,” she spoke to them, “I need the three youngest ones with me. I’ll get you out first and be back for the rest of you.” Several began to argue over the exact months and days and hours of their age and Angela cleared her throat. “We don’t have time for this! I’ll be back for all of you!” Her blue eyes latched onto those worried faces. “I promise!”

She scooped two children into her arms while the last one clung to her good leg. Inhaling deep, her eyes flicked up to Fareeha. Her wings unfurled and blazed to life. Her ascent was quick and Fareeha extended her arms to grab her.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, eyeing Angela through her visor.

“I’m fine,” she lied, passing the children over to Fareeha while suspending midair.

“We need to get—”

“Give me a second.”

Fareeha screamed as Angela darted back into the building. She stumbled upon touching down to the floor. Pain seared up her leg, but she ignored it while gathering the remaining children. They thanked her through sniffles, clinging onto her with nothing but desperation holding them together. Angela embraced them and looked back up.

The building groaned, then shrieked. Metal scraped against metal until the foundations snapped. Angela kept her eyes on Fareeha the entire time. The rain washed over her face as the building collapsed. Angela left the destruction behind her as she zoomed towards the heavens and floated beside her partner.

Her comm sparked back to life. Dozens of voices layered over one another demanding to know her status.

“All clear,” Fareeha responded, zooming towards their base. “Falling back now. Over.” She flicked her comm off and peered back to Angela. “Stay behind me and don’t let me out of your sights.”

That tone…. It was different from Fareeha’s usual, military voice. Softness resided there, though mixed with something else. Disappointment? Or was that slight tremble due to worry? Angela knew better than to ask questions now.

She trailed behind Fareeha in the rain, never lingering and never breaking her stare from that blur of blue.


End file.
